


Midnight Snacking

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Committed Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch is horny, Starsky agreeable, but there are constant interruptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Snacking

Starsky tried to keep his disgust off his face, but the bile rose in his throat. He swallowed reflexively, acutely aware of the other people in the room. Hutch was just behind him, Captain Dobey only a few feet away. He couldn't lose his professional cool at a time like this. He tried to look away but the splashes of red surrounding the entrails splayed out over a layer of thick, viscous fluid drew his eyes with sickening fascination. Even the smell was beginning to turn his stomach, but he took a deep breath to get himself under control.

"Starsky." Hutch's voice, tinged with amusement, broke his reverie. "Are you going to eat that? If not, move on, there's a line of people waiting to get some food."

"What is that?" Starsky pointed with his fork.

"Chitlins, honey. With some vine ripened sliced tomatoes and fried onions." Huggy Bear's Aunt Mabel laughed, dimples popping out on her round merry face. "My specialty, but it you don't like 'em, try my fried chicken. Guaranteed to put hair on your chest."

"He's already got some there." Hutch glanced with affection at his dark haired partner, skipping over the chitlins himself in favor of black-eyed peas and rice.

Starsky selected a drumstick and two wings, adding them to the pile on his plate of what Huggy had termed good ol' down home cookin'. Cornbread, potato salad, okra and mashed sweet potatoes crowded for room on his plate, although he had his eye on a slice of succulent pecan pie for dessert.

The occasion was Huggy Bear's birthday. Exactly which birthday was anyone's guess and no one was completely sure they were celebrating on the correct date, but any time was the right time to celebrate. A slew of Brown family members had descended on the Pits, all bearing covered dishes and party supplies. Now, the sound of reggae music was keeping feet tapping while everyone ate their fill of the delicious food.

"Do you know how old Huggy Bear really is?" Hutch asked Starsky, watching him devour the crispy fried chicken. In truth, nothing on Hutch's plate looked half as good as the curly haired man sitting next to him. He was really looking forward to the late night snack he was planning for after the party.

"About our age?" Starsky guessed, tossing chicken bones back on his now empty plate. He'd known Huggy longer than the blond, but the Bear was stingy with personal details. Such as his real name, for instance. Having access to police records and the city liquor licenses, Starsky had once even undertaken the mission of ascertaining his friend's birth name, but all official records listed him as Huggy Bear. Certainly his mother couldn't have christened the boy with that moniker. Maybe Aunt Mabel would know the truth?

"Getting enough to eat, gentleman?" Huggy planted himself as their table, a blissful grin on his face. He hadn't had so much fun in years and was truly happy to have his extended family all together getting to know his friends. Already Aunt Mabel and Edith Dobey were swapping recipes while the portly Captain of the detectives was attempting a complicated dance step aided by his daughter Rosie and the ten year old daughter of one of Huggy's distant cousins.

"I've sampled just about everything there is, but I'm saving the best for last," Hutch said, sliding a long fingered hand up Starsky's thigh until it just lightly brushed the buttons on his 501 jeans.

"I'm saving space for that pie," Starsky agreed, trying not to let the action going on under the table show on his face. "Hug, think you could grab us a couple of slices?"

"Sure thing, my man. Uncle LeVon makes pecan pie that could send you to heaven." Huggy left his beer on the table, ambling over to the remains of the buffet to secure the last slices of dessert.

"That ain't all that's sending me to heaven," Starsky hissed, shifting his hips on the wooden chair to relieve the growing pressure in his groin. "What are you doing?"

"Checking for freshness," Hutch said innocently, toying with the lowest buttons on his best friend's fly.

"You're the one who's getting' fresh here," Starsky blustered, crossing one leg over the other, which trapped Hutch's hand in place. He hadn't actually meant to do that and wiggled slightly away from the roaming fingers, "Keep you hands in your own lap while you're eating."

"I'm done with my dinner and I want a nice long stick of candy." Hutch smiled as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but he freed his hand.

"Here's pie!" Huggy announced heartily, presenting three plates of the gooey, nut covered delight.

"How old are you anyway?" Hutch reiterated, using his fork to cut a morsel of flaky crust and syrupy filling, then lifting it to his mouth with a seductive look at his partner.

"Old enough to know better," Huggy answered smoothly, savoring each sticky, crunchy bite of pie. He half answered the question, but his attention wasn't on his two friends, it was focused across the room at a knot of cousins giggling around the pool table. "And young enough to enjoy myself. See that lovely chocolate drop over there with Denita and Cloence?"

Starsky found the indicated group, sorting out which of the women he'd met. Cloence was only twelve, and Denita not much older, but one girl stood out from the rest. She was drop dead gorgeous with skin like milk chocolate and glossy black hair twisted into a thick rope hanging down her back, wearing a teeny, tiny pink baby doll undershirt trimmed in lace and skin tight jeans. "Very pretty, Hug, but aren't you sort of related?"

"Only by marriage." He dismissed with a casual wave of his slender hand, "My Aunt's husband's second wife's cousin's sister."

"Huh?" Hutch tried to decipher the long chain of relatives, but Starsky just nodded as if he understood.

"She doesn't know it yet, but she's gonna give me a birthday present later." Huggy grinned, gazing at his present ladylove.

"Have you actually asked her out yet, Hug?" Starsky asked curiously, always happy to see all his friends in relationships. The one he had was a constant source of joy and amazement to him every time he even thought about his lover.

"We chatted, there was a connection."

"Then go get her, man!" Starsky encouraged. Huggy nodded in agreement, taking a moment to adjust the jaunty yellow scarf he wore knotted around his neck. With a confident swagger, he joined the girls at the pool table, picking up a cue with a flourish.

Combining his last bite of pie with a swig of beer, Starsky grimaced at the taste. "Ugh, those do not go together well."

"I know what does go together well, like sausage and eggs on a plate." Hutch licked a sticky morsel off his fork, closing his lips over the flatware then pulling it suggestively from his mouth.

"You are asking for it, aren't you?" Starsky retorted, not used to Hutch in such a frisky, randy mood.

"Just say the word, Starsk." Hutch had wanted his partner's warm, pliant body next to his all evening ever since Starsky had first arrived. 

Put in charge of the task of keeping the Pits' owner away from his establishment until preparations were finished, Starsky had kept Huggy out all afternoon with various excuses. Hutch had helped Aunt Mabel and crew hang birthday buntings, twist crepe paper and generally turn the dingy bar into a birthday partyland. He had hidden under the bar with head waitress Diane, when the Torino's distinctive engine was heard in the back alley, all primed to yell surprise.

Horns had tooted and confetti was thrown as Starsky burst through the door with Huggy in tow, but the word surprise almost died on Hutch's lips. His first glimpse of his best friend and love in most of the day had skewered Hutch's heart with lust. He barely noticed Huggy's look of genuine amazement at the room full of people because he only had eyes for Starsky.

Starsky with his head thrown back in joyous laughter, deep blue eyes bright with life, and party streamers tangled in his curly brown hair. Hutch wanted David Starsky so badly at that moment he'd had to stay behind the bar as the party got under way due to the raging hard-on he was trying to hide.

Huggy had gone from relative to relative thanking each for coming while music was turned on and food served up. It wasn't until Starsky came over to procure his first beer of the party that he'd noticed the odd expression on his partner's face and pulled him out from behind the bar to join the fun. It had taken all of Hutch's willpower not to push the bright eyed imp up against a wall and bugger him right in front of the entire Brown clan. If anything, the urge had increased as the party had progressed.

"What word might that be?" Starsky grinned, well aware of the effect he was having on the tall blond.

"How 'bout my place or yours?" Hutch asked languidly, even though his heart was pounding with the backbeat of the island music coming from a boombox on the bar.

"You're such a Romeo." Starsky flicked his eyes at Hutch, but kept watch on Huggy's seduction of his chosen amour. "Look at Huggy over there putting the moves on her."

"I'll put the moves on you right over my knee if you don't get your butt in gear and move on outta here now." Hutch growled, not sure how much longer he could control himself. He laid his hand back on the jeans clad thigh next to him, this time gripping tightly.

"Ow, getting' rough, stud." Starsky chuckled low in his throat, pushing the hand away so he could stand up. "Your place?"

"Now." Hutch's lust had built to a fever pitch over the last hour. He wasn't sure if he could make it out of the Pits without jumping Starsky's bones. Luckily, the Dobeys were making their good-byes and Huggy was otherwise occupied, so Hutch was able to propel Starsky out of the bar posthaste.

The decidedly cold night air did nothing to cool off Hutch's burning ardor. They'd barely made it around the corner to where the Torino was parked before Hutch backed Starsky up against the stuccoed wall. His hands sliding up under the multicolored sweater, Hutch's lips found Starsky's, thrusting his tongue insistently into the willing mouth. The contrast between Starsky's warm skin under his hands and the cold air on his face only served to heighten Hutch's arousal and he nudged Starsky's legs apart with one knee.

After several frantic minutes of tongue hockey, Starsky pulled away just long enough to catch his breath. Ignoring the cloud of frosty air that formed above his head he dove back into his lover's mouth with a cry. His blood was pounding in his ears, Hutch's consuming passion enveloping him completely.

Grinding his throbbing groin against Starsky's, Hutch let his mouth travel down the other man's throat, sucking hard on the warm, musky skin.

His mouth momentarily free, Starsky tried to speak, but the words froze in his throat with the suction over his Adam's apple. Starsky laced his fingers through the blond silk of his fair haired boy, thrusting his pelvis in time with Hutch's. The bulge in his pants was now so hard he wondered if there were Levi button imprints on his cock.

"Hutch," Starsky panted. "Not here-Dobey or anybody might come out. And I won't be able to drive."

"I could eat you up," Hutch murmured, his lips moving lightly against his partner's skin. He continued licking, tasting the salty sweet essence that was Starsky, sucking hard enough to leave his mark on the delicious throat of his lover.

"Baby, this is just the appetizer." Starsky pulled the blond's face up so he could look into the dilated pale blue eyes. "The main course is at your place"...

"Then get in the car!" Hutch could hardly bear to take his hands off the other's furry chest, but he contented himself with latching onto Starsky's leg once more when they had buckled themselves into the car.

Just as Starsky had turned the key to bring the powerful engine to life, the police band radio crackled, dispatch calling for any available cars to check out a prowler at an address only two blocks away.

Out of habit Starsky reached for the mike, but Hutch grabbed it up before he could press the send button. "Starsk! We are off duty and definitely in the middle of something."

"What if it's a rapist or something...a murderer?" Starsky argued, reclaiming the mike. "Disptach, this is Zebra three, we are on our way. ETA is less than five minutes."

"Adam 14 is rolling too, Zebra three, but you'll be first on the scene."

Hutch tried unsuccessfully to reign in his raging libido, knowing full well Starsky was correct. As police officers, they had a duty to protect the public. If only he didn't get hard every time he even glanced over at the profile of his curly haired love. Just the outline of Starsky's lower lip barely visible in the dark car made him crazy with lust and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. To keep himself busy he slapped the mars light on the roof of the Torino as they zoomed around a corner. The red car pulled up in front of a shabby but neatly kept house with a surprisingly large yard full of bushes and trees all surrounded by a waist high chain length fence.

"Looks quiet enough." Starsky ventured. He hadn't used the alarm but the overly bright crimson light illuminating the formerly dark, silent street had already brought out one or two curious neighbors.

"Officer! Officer!" An older woman with garishly dyed red hair done up in enormous curlers summoned them from the door of number 65. She was clutching a threadbare chenille robe around her pendulous breasts, obviously cold. "I saw a man! He was in the bushes...could be that rapist I've read about..."

"Yes, ma'am." Hutch flicked on a flashlight, pulling out his badge so she could read it. "Detective Sergeant Hutchinson, ma'am. How long ago did you see him?"

"It seems like hours!" she insisted shrilly. "I called the emergency number right away."

Starsky had stayed by the car to let his partner deal with the woman, keeping his eyes open for any suspicious movements. He located his own flashlight when the woman began to gesture over at the bushes which bordered the yard next to hers.

"Don't mind ol' Mrs. Finch, Detective," a stringy man clad only in a singlet tee shirt and well-worn jeans spoke sotto voce. "She sees prowlers and ghosts nearly every damned day of the week."

Starsky turned his attention fully on the man. He could see goosebumps pebbling the skin of his arm, giving a mermaid tattoo an unusual texture. "She ever right?" Starsky asked.

"Not so far." The man shrugged.

Walking cautiously over to the yard of number 67, Starsky played his beam of light along the dark leafy overgrown hedge. Was it his imagination or did he see a gleam of flesh for just a second? He unholstered his pistol, tucking the flashlight into the crook of his arm so he could hold the gun firmly.

Approaching slowly Starsky crouched down, and with his heart suddenly beating twice as fast as a moment ago, he thrust a hand into the bush, connecting with a bare leg.

"Come on out here where I can see you," he commanded. "This is the police, I am armed."

"Not while everyone who lives on Damson street out where they can see me," came the answer. The voice was male and his teeth were chattering from the cold.

Parting the leaves, Starsky peered in at a man probably in his late twenties, hiding in the bush, completely nude. "Is there a reason you're out here naked on the coldest day we've had this year?"

"Lost my keys."

"This your house?" Starsky inquired, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Yes, it's my own house. I came out to let the dog out. Fuckin' dog saw a cat, went after it and I tripped over the dog, fell down and the house keys flew outta my hands and into the bushes."

Starsky couldn't help it any longer, he started to giggle, then laugh so hard he had to sit down on the cold, hard dirt. He holstered his gun, shaking with merriment. The naked blond haired man looked none too happy, glaring at the chuckling detective.

"Starsky?" Hutch was calling, having lost sight of his partner. This always sent a shiver of fear through him, especially since Starsky was more likely than most to get hurt on an assignment.

"I got it covered!" Starsky called wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes. "So to speak." He took off his jeans jacket, holding it out to the naked man. "What's your name?"

"Jason Blackwell," he answered, accepting the jacket and wrapping it around his waist modestly.

"Well, Jason Blackwell, would that lady over there know you?"

"Sure, Mrs. Finch knows everybody. The ol' biddy has nothing better to do than spy on us all the time."

"If I find a set of keys, and she vouches for you, you're free to go back inside," Starsky proposed, shining his flashlight around the bushes again. "Hutch!" He stood, visible again above the leafy concealment.

A black and white had finally pulled up along side the Torino and the two patrol officers were undertaking the task of getting the neighbors back into their respective houses.

"Where have you been?" Hutch strode over to his partner, his irrational fear so strong he had to close one hand discretely around Starsky's elbow to reestablish contact.

"Hutch, meet Jason Blackwell, the unfortunate victim of a over enthusiastic dog and a lost set of house keys," Starsky introduced. "When we find his keys and get him some pants, I want her to I.D. him before we let him back into the house."

"Sounds like a feasible plan," Hutch agreed readily, more than happy not to have much of a report to write up about this. He trained his own flashlight towards the base of the vegetation, seeing a spark of metal almost immediately.

So, after unlocking the front door of 67 Damson Street, Starsky quickly found a pair of sweat pants in the bathroom just where Jason Blackwell had left them while getting ready for a shower. The clothes were reunited with their owner and once he was decently dressed, Mrs. Finch did begrudgingly admit she knew her neighbor. So, it was barely ten minutes later that peace once again reigned on the street and the detectives were back in their car headed for Venice Place.

"Let's see, where were we?" Hutch asked.

"Drivin' to your place. No hanky-panky in the car," Starsky warned, "Don't want to get the seats dirty."

"You're no fun." Hutch fingerwalked up his partner's thigh, tickling along the inside seam of his jeans.

"I don't know what's gotten into you today."

"Well, I know what's gonna get into you."

Starsky groaned at the comment as the fingers moved up further into his crotch, sending waves of desire up his spine and down his cock. "H-hutch...you want to cause an accident?"

"Nope." Hutch fingered the buttons on Starsky's fly, this time working the bottom one out and going to work on the second one. "Pull over, this is the police."

"You gonna frisk me?"

"I'm planning on it." Hutch had both hands on his partner by the time the car had stopped in the darkened parking lot of a high school within walking distance to his apartment. "Spread 'em."

Swiveling around on the slick seat, Starsky extended one long leg across the length of the car, giving Hutch more access to his fly. Making nimble work of the remaining buttons, Hutch had the jeans open in no time. He snaked a slender finger into the gap in his best friend's boxers, freeing the thick pulsing penis into his hand.

"Are you packing heat?" Hutch quipped, closing his fingers around Starsky's length.

"It's cocked and ready, Officer," Starsky whispered, his mouth dry. The door handle was digging into his spine, but he hardly noticed with the attentions his rod was getting. Hutch fisted the length in his hand, sliding his fingers of his other hand underneath to gather the scrotum up and tickle the sensitive bundle. "Oh, man..." Starsky panted, sucking in tight gulps of air as the exquisite pressure built up in him, leaving his nerves raw and singing. "Don't stop..."

"Starsky...I've been waiting all night for this." Hutch went down, his mouth all over the warm, throbbing cock, sucking harder than he'd dared on his lover's skin.

Feeling like his whole being was engulfed by the talented mouth now completely covering his manhood, Starsky reached out to grab onto something solid before he slid further down on the seat. His left hand connected with the steering wheel. As electricity shot through his nervous system with the climax tipping him over into ecstasy, he leaned hard on the car horn. The loud blaring drowned out Starsky's cries of delight, and pain when Hutch accidentally bit down on him in surprise.

"Geezus, Hutch!" Starsky jerked his knee up in defense, almost smacking Hutch in the chin.

"Sorry!" Hutch balanced himself with one hand on the back of the seat, "Are you okay? Why'd you hit the horn?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Starsky stroked himself, searching for teeth marks, "No harm done, I guess, but we ain't teenagers, I don't think we're cut out for makin' out in the car." He tucked himself back in, buttoning half the buttons on his pants.

"I always used to do it in the back seat, anyway." Hutch laughed, seeing the humor in the situation. The problem was, he was still horny.

"Your place?" Starsky's mouth twitched. "You spend a lot of time in high school in the back seat?"

"Had a late forties pale blue Studebaker, not a whole lotta space back there, but I liked a tight fit."

"You still do." Starsky smirked, starting the car again. He was totally in the mood for more of the same, but luck didn't seem to be on their side tonight. Hutch's little apartment would definitely be the safest place. "Who was the lucky girl?"

"Mary Anne Larson. Long flaxen hair and the biggest rack in the whole junior class."

"Big tits, huh?" Starsky laughed, keeping his eye out for a parking place. "Your taste musta changed since then, huh?"

"I like blondes with big breasts and brunets with long cocks."

"Oh, I wondered what you saw in me." Starsky maneuvered the big car into a slightly small parking space but with just a little adjustment, managed a perfect fit.

"You think I was referring to you?"

"Ain't no big chested blondes here, stud." Starsky climbed out after his friend, admiring the way Hutch's pants moved over his tight butt when he walked. "I see a really tall, well muscled blond who can get my blood pumpin' like nobody else."

"I'll have you flying in no time," Hutch promised, holding open the door.

"You first," Starsky insisted, "I don't want any accidents on the stairs from you getting' all starry eyed with my ass sticking in your face."

"That was the idea." Hutch hurried up the narrow staircase, letting them both in. Starsky was hardly inside before Hutch had the jeans jacket off him. The rainbow hued sweater joined the jacket on the floor a second later.

"No foreplay, just action?" Starsky complained, but his own hands were fumbling with the wide belt around Hutch's middle.

"Huh-uh." Hutch batted the other man's hands away, "This is my night, and I'm in charge. You're my willing slave."

"Kinda hard if you don't strip down." Starsky let Hutch loosen his jeans once again, pushing them down until they gathered around his ankles. His now bare butt was smashed against the wall just inside the front door, Hutch's hands holding down his arms as his mouth explored Starsky's naked chest.

"I know what I'm doing." Hutch chuckled, planting a kiss on his lover's shoulder. "Kick off your pants and walk over to the bed. I'll get some wine."

That wasn't all he got. Ridding himself of his cumbersome clothes, Hutch grabbed the wine he'd put in the refrigerator to chill hours before, placing it with two long stemmed glasses on a tray. He added several other items before carrying it all back into the bedroom. He'd planned for such a night, and he was finally going to get fulfillment.

"Here, this goes down better than pecan pie and beer." Hutch held out a glass of dark Bordeaux.

"I thought I heard somethin' about sausage and eggs earlier." Starsky clinked glasses with his partner, then sipped the hearty wine.

"You'll have a sausage in your future, never fear." Hutch set down the glass, feasting his eyes on the naked man in sitting in his bed. Starsky had a long torso, wide through the shoulders narrowing to slender hips then widening again with his powerful, shapely thighs. Most of the chest was covered in a dense tangle of curly hair which grew to a point below his belly button as if leading the way to his center. The scars left behind from the gunshot wounds in Starsky's past were partially covered by the curly chest hair, but here and there a thin pale line was visible, horrible and vulnerable at the same time. The sight never failed to melt Hutch, and he always wanted to trace those faint lines, celebrate their presence, since they proclaimed Starsky's life as much as his beating heart did.

The two men had always been physically demonstrative, even before they'd entered into a sexual relationship, so both had seen each other in various states of undress hundreds of times. Still, each time Hutch encountered his naked love, it was with fresh eyes and a joyful soul. This man was willing to lie with him, give his whole being to him and trust him not to hurt him or in any way abuse that trust. Although he had had occasional dalliances with men before Starsky, the dark haired man had only ever done it with women before Hutch. Each discovered that while women had their own sweet talents between the sheets, together, they were perfection. Their emotionally intimate friendship had bonded them so completely that sex just added another dimension to their already twinned souls.

Picking up a book of matches, Hutch struck one, leaning over to touch the tiny flame to several candles clustered on the tray. Switching off the bedside lamp, he smiled at Starsky in the flickering firelight. After the franticness of their earlier attempts at lovemaking, this was going to be slower, more peaceful and truly a night to remember.

"Light my fire." Starsky reached out for the blond beside him, but Hutch moved slightly away.

"We do it my way."

"If this is another one of those song trivia games, I could keep my end up all night," Starsky boasted.

"You must have read my mind, cause that's exactly where I want you, and so far I can't get no satisfaction."

"How bout Do it to me one more time..."

"Once is never enough with a man like you..." Hutch joined in, his singing voice soft and sensual He spread his fingers wide, grasping Starsky's hips and drawing him close.

"You knew that one, huh?"

"Starsky." Hutch once again covered the dark haired man's lips with his own, his tongue diving deep inside, stroking the roof of his mouth with delicate tenderness, tasting the fruitiness of the wine. Lips connected, pressed, hungered, both men suspended in a moment of communal oneness, locked in a passionate embrace that brought Hutch's arms up to encircle his love's. Starsky couldn't move, his usual perpetual motion melting under the constant onslaught of Hutch's kisses. He could only respond, returning the kisses with fervent desire to make the blond as happy as he was.

When both needed a breath of air, Hutch picked up his glass of wine, drinking, gazing at Starsky all the while. He closed the tiny gap between them, taking Starsky's nipple between two fingers, rubbing until it stiffened hard as a pebble. When he saw the effect he was having on his partner's face, he tipped the wineglass so Starsky could taste the fermented grape.

Between the jolts of sensation from Hutch's fingers and the intoxicating wine, Starsky was close to ecstasy, barely able to breathe with all his nerve endings firing at the same time. He gulped another mouthful of Bordeaux before Hutch removed it, reaching up to capture the glass. Hutch cut him off, grabbing those hands between his own, raising Starsky's fingers to his mouth.

Tracing a reverent thumb over his love's lower lip, Starsky whispered, "Let me give you something, it's my turn."

"Not now, turn over, I'm not finished." Hutch instructed in a voice laced with sex. He bunched a pillow under Starsky's hips as the other man positioned himself on his belly, with his face resting on his folded arms and his buttocks slightly raised. "Beautiful." Hutch admired the sight in front of him. "Finally got that ass where I wanted it."

"Honey, honey, touch me baby..." Starsky started to sing low and seductive.

"Starsky, we've had talks about you singing ABBA songs in my house," Hutch warned, giving the rounded cheek in front of him a playful slap. He found the little tube of lubricant on the tray under a fat red candle, squirting out a thick line of jelly onto his palm.

Twisting around so he could see his best friend, Starsky continued the song, "you look like a movie star, but now I know who you are, you're a love machine..."

"Starsky..." Hutch growled, his cock so hard from anticipation the throbbing pleasure was almost a pain, "Stop singing." He dipped a slippery finger into the puckered entrance in Starsky's buttocks, adding a second finger when there was no resistance from the recipient.

"Oh, God," Starsky gasped, "Kept going..."

"You want it all?" Hutch inquired cautiously, he was always a little bit concerned that he could hurt Starsky like this. The opening was so tight, it didn't seem possible that it could widen enough to hold his entire penis. He thrust in a third finger, easing the muscles open to accommodate the larger package to come. He curled one finger, delicately scraping Starsky's inner tissue, which brought an instant groan.

"Hutch, stop teasing, get on with it." Starsky pleaded, his whole world centering on his inner core. He bent his head back down on his hands, just barely able to watch the blond man out of the corner of his eye.

"Got you to stop singing." Hutch grinned, so primed himself he was afraid he'd go too fast and rip or tear his lover's rectum. "I just want you to be ready."

"I'm boiling over!" Starsky clamped his hands around the bed sheets to stop from reaching back and pushing Hutch's hardness into him.

"Good, must be time to shove the sausage in the pot then." Hutch grasped his steel hard cock, pushing the head into the willing opening. Starsky's body welcomed him, the muscles tightening around him as he thrust forward. Biting down on his lip, Hutch's whole body convulsed almost immediately, shudders of passion ripping through him like shock wave. He rocked his pelvis forward, pushing Starsky up against the head of the bed with his force, straining not to loose control so soon when he wasn't even completely engulfed in the warm, wet cocoon. Another thrust and his penis disappeared, his balls smashed up against his love's body. Hutch wrapped his hands around the sharp knobs of Starsky's hipbones, both joined together in a rhythmic dance of love. There was no time, just a wild cascade of sizzling heated passion taking them out of the natural world and into a netherworld of pure emotion. Screaming out Starsky's name, Hutch came, spurting semen with a jerking force.

Starsky had been speared by Hutch before, but never with such need on both their parts. Their first few times had been tentative and slow, both unsure of the mechanics and scared by warnings read in books and journals. This time they were more experienced, both comfortable in their roles and aware of the expected sensations. Only this was nothing like he'd expected. Hutch filled him to overflowing, he'd never felt such pressure and elation. It was like they had become one being, but he was the outer shell and Hutch his inner self. He gulped air as fireworks danced in front of his eyes, holding onto the bed to keep from being pushed right to the end with Hutch's thrusts.

Pushing up against Hutch's body with his own, Starsky changed the dance, shifting direction so that he was giving of himself too. His rectal muscles contracted as his second climax of the night tossed him into near oblivion, waves of sensation pounding through his body with Hutch's own 'near death'.

Laying on top of Starsky's prone body, Hutch panted, "That was fantastic...more than anything..."

"It was terrific." Starsky grinned, exhausted. "But would you get off me? I can hardly breathe."

"Sorry." Hutch apologized, rolling to the left, pulling his flaccid penis out at the same time. Starsky immediately missed the intense feeling of fullness, fervently wishing they could do it a second time, just to have the connection back.

"How're you doing, Starsk?" Hutch snaked his arms around the well muscled body spooned against his, toying with the curly chest hair.

"I'm so great there aren't words for it." Starsky scooched around so they were face to face and he could see the incredible blue eyes of the only man he'd ever love. "But all this exercise is workin' up an appetite. Didn't I hear somethin' about some eggs to go with the sausage?"

"Well, you got laid didn't you?" Hutch asked, trying for a straight face.

"Hutchinson, I may have to hurt you for that one."

FIN


End file.
